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COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



ON THE LAKE 



AND OTHER POEMS 



ELIZABETH REYNOLDS 




BOSTON 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
1915 



Copyright, 1915, by Elizabeth Reynolds 



All Rights Reserved 






/ am indebted to the courtesy of the publishers of 
The New England Magazine, The Churchman, The Over- 
land Monthly, The Advance, The Metaphysical Magazine, 
Munsey's Magazine, and Everybody's ; also to the music 
publishers, Wm. A. Pond, N. Y., Brainard, N. Y., Wit- 
mo7-k, N. Y., The John Church Co., Cincinnati, Clayton F. 
Summy, Chicago, The Gamble Hi^ighed Music Co., Chica- 
go, Theo. Presser, Philadelphia, White-Smith, Boston, and 
G. Schirmer, N. Y., for permission to use the words of 
which they own the copyright. 

The frontispiece is a reproduction of a portrait by Vic- 
tor Georg, owner of the copyright. 



The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 




OEC 27 1915 

©Cl.A418ia6 

9i^ ( . 



Little cloud J passing breeze 
And nightingale are done. 
I wonder if thought speeding 
Can reach the distant one? 
Know you then, know you then 
You are not alone , — 
From my heart, from my heart 
Winged thoughts have flown. 



CONTENTS 

Page 
On the Lake. 

I. Proem 1 1 

//. Storm II 

///. Mist 12 

IV. On the Sands 12 

V. White-Crested Wave 13 

VI . The Lake's Song to the Soul 14 

VII. The Sea Wall 15 

VIII. Moonglade 15 

IX. Postlude 16 

Love's Rhapsody 17 

Brotherhood 18 

To Mary 19 

Song: And Yet 21 

Love-In-Idleness 22 

Love Forgot 23 

Snow Flowers 24 

The Passion Flower 25 

Why do I Love You, Dearest 26 

Song: 'Tis May 27 

Song: "One Gave Me a Rose at Parting". ... 28 

Inheritance 29 

The Birds Beside the Fountain 30 

The Dandelion 31 

The Meaning of the Song 32 

Cobwebs : A Fantasy 33 

Springtime 35 

Love's Sorrow 36 

Song Cycle: In the Wood. 

/. Through Shadowy Paths ........ 37 

//. In the Tree-Tops High 38 



CONTENTS 

Page 

///. A Tangled Glade 38 

IV. Blue Bells on Slender Stem 39 

V. "Within the Stillness of the Wood'' 40 

VI . The Cave 40 

VII . ''My Soul Cries Aloud to the Forest" 41 

My Talisman 42 

Love's Rondelay 43 

Lines to a Nun 44 

''Thou'lt Not Forget !" 45 

When You're Away 46 

Sonnet 47 

Blue Bells on the Rocks 48 

You 49 

Song Cycle : Memory 50 

A Norseman's Song 54 

To-Day 55 

The Cry 56 

A Quiet World 57 

After the Rain 58 

One Glance 59 

'"Tis Love Taps at the Window^" 60 

The Voice of Spring 61 

Protestation 62 

Rain in Summer 63 

Silence 64 

A Season's Cycle of Song. 

/. Spring 65 

//. Summer 66 

///. Autumn 67 

IV. Winter 68 

"You Sing to the World of a Summer Time". 69 

"I know^ a Garden Fair" 70 

Ballad 71 

A Peaceful Heart 72 

Hidden Springs 73 



CONTENTS 

Page 

"When Summer Skies are Blue" 74 

Love's Gifts 75 

Love's Necklace 76 

Sunset 77 

The Dream — Arabian Serenade 78 

A Merry Little Song 80 

Man's Easter 81 

Sonnet to Keats 82 

Song of the Wind 83 

Song of the Waters 84 

Song of the Cold 85 

Song of the Fire 86 

Song of the Sunlight 87 

Song of the Rain 88 

Song of the Twilight 89 

A Christmas Silhouette 90 

To a Russian Dancer 91 

A Summer Story 92 

The World and Sorrow 94 

"Blush Redder, Reddest Rose" 95 

A Bruised Heart 96 

The World and Death 97 

The Cotton-Wood Trees 98 

'Neath the Stars 99 

The Poet's Thought 100 

In Sheltered Nook lOi 

Within the Manor Garden 102 

My Place 114 

"Your Eyes" 115 

"If this Be Parting" 116 

The Last Glance 117 

The Secret 118 

Tiger Lilies 119 

Love's Captive 120 

When Love is Young 121 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Indian Summer 123 

The Bashful Lover 124 

Love's Night 125 

Thanksgiving 126 

The Stay at Home 127 

A Valentine 129 

Under the Lilacs 131 

"Why, O Little Flowret?" 132 

Two Visions 134 

God's Promises 135 

''Lovely Weather" 136 

Futurity 137 

Love's Silence 138 

"Since You Are Gone" , 139 

"I Wonder" 140 

De Profundis 142 



ON THE LAKE 



ON THE LAKE 

Song Cycle 
I 



On the shore of the lake where I stand 

All the world seems afar; 
And my soul 
Is engidfed in the rush and the roar of the waves 
Comes a song o'er the deep to the land, 
While low under-tones roll, 
And the dash of the waves as they beat 
All my fancy enslaves 
Shutting out other sounds 
Save the sea in its inland embrace. 



II 



Mid lightning's fierce flash 
And thunders roll 
Majestic in its wrath 
The storm-cloud breaks. 
Storm-tossed on trackless path 
Waves now in fury dash, 
And hope forsakes 
My trembling soul 
That cries on seething lake 
In blackest night; 
*'0 depth! O pitiless abyss! 
Abate thy might!" 



Ill 



Cold clouds of rain 

Enwrap the ashen lake 
As in a pall, 

And grey a pallid mist 
The far horizon veils. 

I seek in vain 
To pierce the gloom 

That like a vaporous wall 
From lake to sky uplifts 

And shuts far distant sails from longing eyes. 
Grey gloom of pallid mist 

And ashen skies. 
Far up the wet, cold, sandy beach I gaze — 

Though all seems blotted out from fear-strained 
eyes 
Save drift-wood floating past from water-ways 

Of ships dismantled in the distant night. 
Yet here, beloved one, as swallows free 

Cleave e'en the ashen cloud to seek the light — 
My thoughts, where-e'er thou art, still turn to thee. 

IV 

ON THE SANDS 

Heavy storms! they have beaten and raged 
'Till my soul, worn and spent, prostrate falls 
On the bare sands of life. 
Beaten and baffled and bruised 
A battle is waged — 
A conflict, a strife. 
Still my soul loudly calls 
Mid the roar of the storm for relief. 
12 



Beaten, and baffled and bruised 

All is vain. 
On the lake rival fleets madly cruised 
A safe harbor to gain. 
Beaten and baffled and bruised 
From the bed of the lake, mad with grief, 
Swept from life by a passion of pain, 
Floats a specter to haunt me, to daunt me,- 
An out-cast — storm-swept and alone. 
Beaten and baffled and bruised 
On the bare sands of life 

My soul prostrate lies 
'Till the waves lulling soft solace speak 
Ere grey dawn lights the sTcies. 

V 

WHITE-CRESTED WAVE 

White-crested wave 

You laugh in rippling glee 
As o'er the lake so blue 
You swiftly play. 
White-crested wave 

Your song breaks tenderly 
And to me whispers sweet 
Love's happy lay: — 
"My love, I come to thee 
Though lake and foaming sea 
Our life divide. 
Hide not thine eyes so blue, — 
In them love's language true 
Speaks, and binds thee to me 
What e'er betide." 



13 



White-crested wave 

Your ripples curve and break 
As up the beach in play 
You swiftly run. 
White-crested wave 

Your song rings tenderly 
And to me whispers sweet 
Love's happy lay: — 
"My love, I come to thee 

Though lake and foaming sea 
Our life divide. 
Hide not thine eyes so blue, — 
In them love's language true 
Speaks, and binds thee to me 
Whate'er betide." 

VI 

THE lake's song TO THE SOUL 

Be brave, O soul! 

What though the storm-blasts blow?- 
The waves of time must beat 

And dash and break; 
Must come the storm; 

And shipwreck dark and drear; 
And like a curtain black 

The mist obscure the sun ; 
But God doth hold 

Within His mighty hand 
Thy trembling soul, 

And rest comes after toil — 
Peace after storm. 



14 



VII 



THE SEA WALL 



Grey In the sunshine glowing 
To-day the sea wall stands; 

The spray its fine foam throwing 
Breaks in prismatic strands. 

Flit from far fields a-lying 
In stiff, harsh stubble bare 

Swift swallows circling, vying, 
Adrift in ambient air. 

Soft sea-gulls white are floating 
Toss'd on the rippling main; 

And wafts the lark's sweet throating 
Aloft Heav'n's gate to gain. 

White sails are scudding — speeding 
O'er bright waves lightly stirred. 

From sight of shore receeding 
In flight like winged bird. 

Now boom the waters breaking 
In slow soft cadence sweet, 

And low its song awaking 
Love's sorrow still repeat. 

VIII 

MOONGLADE 

A path of shimm'ring light — 
A moonlit lake serene — 

A world of fancies bright 
In love-lit, golden sheen. 
15 



'Neath silVry sails yon boat 

So softly, swiftly flies — 
A winged bird a-float 

To shores of Paradise. 

In moonlit, halcyon shade 

A sky, a lake of dreams: 
A gliding, glist'ning glade 

Yon burnished pathway gleams. 

Xhe glist'ning golden way, 
Belov'd one, leads to thee 

In fancy's happy play 

O'er lake and shimm'ring sea. 

IX 

POSTLUDE 

From the shore of the lake must I turn 

To the world and its strife: 
And the grey, pallid mist 

Softly veils all the lake and the sky; 
And forgot is the dash of the waves 

That my fancy enslaves 
For the world and its din drowns the song 

That the undertone sings: 
And forgot is the mist and the lake and the sky 

And the waves that sing on — 
That sing on though the world listens not. 



"^Set to music by 
Mr. Rudolph Ganz. 



i6 



LOVE'S RHAPSODY 

What is the magic power 

That stills my soul's unrest? 
Only one presence near 

And all the world is blest ; ^ 
Only thy voice, belov'd, 

To speak my name 
And all the world illum'd 

By love's pure flame. 

What is the magic power 

That binds my heart to thine? 
Only thy hand, close-clasp'd 

And all the world is mine; 
Only thy glance, belov'd. 

To meet my own 
And all the world forgot 

In love's fair zone. 



17 



BROTHERHOOD 



Afar, in lonely spot or crowded mart, 
Some noble deed is done, some thought expressed 
That thrills with rapture sweet each noble heart, 
And shows to each his own ideal confessed. 

Alas! when some poor wretch, by want oppressed 
Seems by his evil deeds to stand apart 
From all mankind, — ^when tried doth thou not start 
To find his thoughts re-echoed in thy breast? 

One human family all the whole world 'round. 
We do not live alone, but all are bound 
By ties the closest though unrecognized: 

Whispers within the heart a voice to each; — 

"I claim thee Brother by those thoughts that reach 

To depths within my soul ne'er realized!" 



i8 



TO MARY 

Song 

Flowers there be 
Swaying so merrily, 
Gaily in sunshine 
Blooming so sweet; 
Lily-bells white, 
Lily-bells blue, 
Tenderly all 
Singing of you, 
Singing of you. 
My Mary. 

Lovers there be 
Courting thee merrily. 
Gaily in laughter 
Passing the day ; 
Sing thee in song. 
Toast thee in wine 
Tenderly all 
Rapture divine 
Feeling for you, 
My Mary. 

Sweethearts there be 
Singing all merrily. 
Gaily in sunshine 
Passing the day; 
Be the hours black — 
Be the hours gay — 
I to thy heart 
Earnestly pray. 
Pray for thy love, 
My Mary. 



By permission. Copyrighted 1907 hy G. Schirmer. 
19 



Answer me, sweet, 
Smiling so tenderly; 
Bid me in sunshine, 
Bid me in rain 
Come to thy call — 
List to thy sigh — 
Tenderly then 
Let me be nigh, 
Nigh to thy heart. 
My Mary. 



20 



AND YET 

To Rena 

Song 

Deep flows the quiet sea 

And yet — and yet — 

Storm iDlasts have wildly blown 

And madly dashed the wave 

Before the sobbing sea 

Hath quiet grown — 

Before the lulling waves 

The storm-strewn beach soft lave 

And yet — and yet! 

Calm seems thy silent heart 
And yet — and yet — 
Storm-spent and quiet grown 
(Once passion- tossed thy heart 
Beat on tempestously) 
A thing of stone 
Seems now thy silent heart 
From storm and stress apart, 
And yet — and yet! 



LOVE-IN-IDLENESS 

Butterflies airy and bright 

'Neath mid-summer skies aglow, 

Your wings all purple and gold and green 

Have caught the damask of silken sheen: 

Circling and flitting from flower to flower — 

("Love-in-a-mist" decks my lady's bower) — 

With mid-summer's day away you soar, 

And the rose may sigh, and the lily weep 

For the love you bore, and the tryst to keep, 

For fled are the butterflies airy and bright 

'Neath mid-summer skies aglow. 



LOVE FORGOT 

ice, and snow, and sleet, 
You freeze, you chill, you beat! 

1 bend my head at last 
Defenceless to the blast; 
And cuts the wind so bleak 
My brow and tingline cheek, 
While Winter's cruel clasp 
Enfolds in icy grasp; 

And cold the blinding snow 
Through which I falt'ring go, — 
But not so cold — so drear, 
O world, as love forgot! 



23 



SNOW FLOWERS 

Where once were flowers gay 

Now lies the snow; 
The skies o'er-head are gray — 

Cold winds do blow; 
Across the trellised way 

Hang wreaths of white 
As if in merry play 

The snow with light, 
Soft touches mocked the May, 

And on each stem 
As 'twere white roses lay. 



24 



THE PASSION FLOWER 

To J. R. 

Pale, purpled passion flower, 
You bloomed in death's dark hour. 
Death held the cup to th' brim 
Fill'd full of sorrow grim; 
And when I trembling quaff'd 
To the dregs the bitter draught 
Your petal'd disc gleam'd pale 
Like stars in th' heav'nly vale, 
And bade me bear my cross 
Of sorrow and of loss. 

Pale flow'r, empurpled bloom, 
Shine on to light the gloom 
Of death's dark hour. 



25 



"WHY DO I LOVE YOU, DEAREST?" 

Why do I love you, dearest? 
As well ask honey-bee 
Why buttercups a-glowing 
Tempt him to seek the lea. 

Why do I love you, dearest? — 
My heart is like a well 
Your glance like pebble dropping 
Sinks in its depths to dwell. 

Why do I love you, dearest? — 
Soft sing yon nightingales, — 
Your voice to me is music 
That soft my heart assails 

Why do I love you, dearest, 
When loving is such pain? 
Yet all the world's best treasures 
I'd give your love to gain. 

Why do I love you, dearest? 
Ask you yon brooklet small 
WTiy laughing through the meadows 
It hears the sea's low call. 



26 



'TIS MAY 








Song 








Why to-day 

Sunshine bright 
Doth with me stay 

I cannot, 
Nor confess 


dare not 


say 


Save to one — 
My happiness; 

The secret sweet 
Her heart shall greet 

And — 'tis 


May! 





27 



"ONE GAVE ME A ROSE AT PARTING" 

Song 

One gave me a rase at parting, 
And softly her red lips smiled: 
And one with eyes of violet 
Sweetly my heart beguiled : 
But one no rose nor violet — 
Nor glance nor smile to stay, 
Yet cold in my hand at parting 
Her trembling fingers lay. 



28 



INHERITANCE 

(To My Father) 

Poor, struggling youth, who gladly toils alone 

To win and hold the key to knowledge dear! 

Humbly he knocks at Wisdom's gates of stone 

That open not till on their sides appear, 

Carved by his hands, two rugged figures clear 

Of Industry and Patience fully grown: 

And when at last admitted to be shown 

The glories of the inner court, the fear 

Of falling back from vantage gained lends strength 

To struggle bravely always ; and, at length, 

When all life's tasks are done, he leaves his heirs 

This best inheritance — the impulse strong 

That leads them onward, though the way be long, 

Knowing all lists are free to him that dares. 



29 



THE BIRDS BESIDE THE FOUNTAIN 

The birds beside the fountain 

In mid-day heat find rest; 
I, too, though languid, listless, 

Seek there a solace blest. 

Far out the lofty mountains 
Lift snow-capped turrets high; 

Down, down through pleasant valleys 
Cool waters ripple by. 

In perfumed shade I linger; 

The birds with folded wings 
List to the water falling. 

And catch the song it sings. 

Twitt'ring, their little bodies 

They lave in falling spray, 
Then far o'er leafy covert 

Singing they fly away. 

i " " ■ •, 

And I, my tasks resuming — 
Still hear the fountain play — 

Still breathe the perfumed silence 
Though years have passed away. 



30 



THE DANDELION 

Golden the dandelion — Miser, for shame! 

Spread out for bee or worm — all hoards the same. 

No use in copying it — golden disk spread — 
Lightly it nods and sways in its green bed. 

Bluebirds are carolling high overhead 
Robins strut saucily — (So the worm said.) 

Bumble-bees greedily swarm from the clover — - 
Clumsily — golden floors tempting the rover. 

Far from the toil and fret — fair carpet spread — 
As in a fairy dream — would you be led? 

Then come — the skies are blue. Throw yourself 

down: 
Golden the dandelion as a king's crown; 

And the green carpet spread bears you to-day 
Back to fair childhood dreams — far, far away. 



31 



THE MEANING OF THE SONG 

I heard the song-birds' note so full and gay 

Ring through the summer air. 
My bitter heart cried out, "Ah well — a — day! 

The birds know not a care; 
They sing because the air is warm and sweet 

With woodland perfumes rare; 
Nor give a thought to life so incomplete!" 

'Till at my feet I 'spied the gentle mate 

By cruel hunter slain. 
The bird upon the tree bewails her fate, — 

To me now sad the strain! 
It whispers to my heart, "Doth thou not know 

The lesson taught by pain? 
"Life's sweetest songs oft rise from bitter woe." 



32 



COBWEBS 

A Fantasy 

Unseen the spider weaves 
A filmy, fleecy thread 
That floats — a swaying rope — 
When summer days are dead 
And autumn's golden sheaves 
Are gathered In. 

Then trooping o'er the fields 
At night come fairies bright, 
And on the filmy rope 
That floats in pale moonlight 
They dance fantastic reels 
With rout and din. 

Or else in sportive glee 
Some elfish, tricksy sprite 
Deserts the swaying rope 
To chase the fire-flies bright, 
Or wake the drowsy bee 
Ere day begin. 

Some sip from chalice brink 

The trembling dew-drops sweet. 

While floats the filmy rope 

The moon-flowers white they greet 

With icy kiss, and drink 

Their fragrance in. 



33 



Their kiss — an icy mist — 
They leave on flower and vine; 
That, and the rope that floats — 
A filmy, fleecy line — 
Alone remains I w^ist 
Where fay had been. 

When summer days are dead 
In morning's early light 
Still floats the swaying rope, 
But fairies of the night 
Long since have dancing fled 
With rout and din. 



34 



SPRINGTIME 

springtime's night so sweet! 
We walked in bliss conaplete; 
No word between us passed, 
Yet beat my heart so fast 

1 feared the list'ning trees 
Would tell it to the breeze, 
And trembled near you, sweet. 

O springtime's night of love! 
A bird-song high above 
Trilled soft. I knew the strain 
But echoed love's refrain 
That made his song a part 
Of rapture from my heart — 
And feared you heard, O love! 

O springtime's night so still! 
The silence seems to thrill, 
My trembling fingers clasp 
Your arm in timid grasp. 
Yet quick my pulses throb — 
My breath a quiv'ring sob — 
And night, spring's night, so still! 

O springtime's night of bliss ! 
Upon my lips your kiss, 
Though only evening's calm 
Caressed me with its balm; 
Unspoken, too, your word 
Yet all my being stirred — 
O night, love's night of bliss! 



35 



LOVE'S SORROW 

Heard I last night the saddest word; "Farewell!" 
Seems now the desert world a dreary waste ; 
The lagging hours no longer quickly haste; 
In sleep still beats the dreary, passing knell; — 
''Farewell, beloved one, to you farewell!" 

And filled with sorrow's rue my waking hours, 
For seems my trembling heart a brimming glass — 
One added drop the goblet's rim must pass — 
A word — a thought of you my heart o'er-pow'rs. 
And fall my silent tears in sudden show'rs. 



36 



SONG CYCLE— IN THE WOOD 

(To May Winter Keane) 

I 
THROUGH SHADOWY PATHS 

The wood so beautiful, so calm, so still 
Invites retreat within its shadowy paths 
That lead to solitude. 

The distant world 
But mocks with clamor harsh and stern and cold 
The bitter cry of lonliness and grief 
That each heart knows. 

Here from the world I fly 
To solace seek mid lofty trees and boughs 
Uplifted to the skies. 

Tall tow'r the trees — 
Grim sentinels of Time — here when vain man 
So soon hath sighed his weary life away! 

The distant waters of the limpid lake 

Gleam softly, silvery bright when winding ways 

Through wood and tangled glade lead to the shore. 

I listen for a voice I would forget, — 
Only the leaves a-whispering hear my sigh. 
Here naught remains but nature's comforting 
That comes a breath from some forgotten day 
To soothe with gentle ministry divine 
Her tired child. 



37 



II 

IN THE TREE-TOPS HIGH 

In the tree- tops high 

A voice I hear — 
'Tis the wind all-a-sigh 

Now soft — now clear: 
And the wind sings soft 

A song now sad — 
And the wind sings clear 

A song all glad; 
But sad or glad 

All the branches stir — 
A-tremble the leaves 

In the moon-lit air. 
What sings the voice 

In the tree-tops high? 
To my heart the voice 

Is a deathless cry 
Singing of love 

And a last good-bye. 

Ill 

A TANGLED GLADE 

A tangled glade — 

A summer sky all blue — 

Tall birches gleaming white 

And I with you 

A-dreaming. 

Fair float soft, fleecy clouds 

Across the blue, 

And gay the summer flowers 

38 



Of fairest hue — 
And I with you 
A-dreaming. 

A tangled glade — 

Tall gleam the birches white, 

And black the sky o'er-cast — 

Fast comes the night; 

And sighing 

The sombre forest beckons with its shade 

And crying 

The night-bird calls: "Farewell, 

The day is dying!" 

And I for you 

Am sighing. 

IV 

BLUE-BELLS ON SLENDER STEM 

Blue-bells on slender stem. 
Could you but know 
Deep, deep the joy a-glow 
Your beauty brings : 
I see a sky all blue — 
I know a heart that's true. 
Blue-bells his face I see 
As lifts he tenderly 
Your little flower. 

Blue-bells on slender stem. 
Did you that day 
Trembling — your bells a-sway — • 
Whisper my name? 
Deep, deep are eyes of grey — 
Smiles in their shadows play. 
39 



Blue-bells, wilt bid him haste? — 
Love chides a moment's waste — 
Speed fast the hour! 



WITHIN THE STILLNESS OF THE WOOD 

Within the stillness of the wood 

Alone and sad I wander: 

I stooping pick a little flower — 

Still sad the thought I ponder: 

Sweet little flower — 

Soon left to fade — 

Why cuird from soft earth growing? 

This little song 

My sad heart sings 

Wilt greet his heart unknowing? 

VI 

THE CAVE 

Green things — mosses and ferns — 
Hid in the shadowy softness of a cave. 
Here sunshine enters not, but stillness rests 
Like dreamless sleep. 

The distant waters of the limpid lake 
Sound softly lapping on their pebbly beach. 

Up through the tree-tops high gleam soft the blue 
Of summer sky. 



40 



Seek, soul, thy respite from the strife of life, 
And buried in the cavern's soft retreat 
Find peace. 

VII 

"'my soul cries aloud to the forest'' 

My soul cries aloud to the forest; — 

"Give me thine aid to-day. 

I have no strength to battle — 

I have no heart to pray. 

Hold me within thy stillness; 

Hide me beneath thy shade." 

Then calm comes thy voice, O forest; — 

"Soul, be thou unafraid!" 

My soul cries aloud to the forest; — 

"Tall tower thy trees-trunks high. 

I gaze at the sky above them — 

I list to the winds' low sigh. 

Peace is within thy stillness — 

Rest in thy leafy shade: 

I'll gird me with strength for the battle — 

Life! I am unafraid!" 



*Set to music by 
Mr. Edwin Schneider. 



41 



MY TALISMAN 

I carry In my heart a talisman — 

A token — simple — true ; 
You need not ask to see it — ^what it is — 

It is not known to you. 
It is not like a jewel that you wear 

For other men to see, — 
I wear my talisman within my heart — 

'Tis only known to me. 

I carry in my heart the talisman 

Of faith that never grieves; 
I do not need to make excuse — she know^s — 

Or knowing not — believes: 
I carry every place I go her love — 

Not love you boast so fair — 
The love I carry in my heart 

Would e'en my burdens bear. 

I carry in my heart her talisman — 

A gift not known to Kings — 
And make her glad as any Queen 

With simple little things. 
I keep my talisman to use — to wear — 

It only stronger grows, 
And brightly shines in storm and wind — 

In cloudy days — or fair. 

I carry in my heart a look of trust — 

A glance from honest eyes — 
You need not smile to ask if lovely face 

Beguiled — or w^hat the guise. 
The talisman I keep so close concealed 

Is sweet as any flower, 
And gently blooming sheds its soft perfume 

To light my darkest hour. 
42 



LOVE'S RONDELAY 

A whisper in the air, — 

A bird-song trilling sweet; 

"Love" pulsing everywhere — 

Spring's melody complete. 

"Love" sighs the southern breeze — 

Pale roses blushing bend, 

High branches of the trees 

A swaying chorus lend, 

Then listen, love, my heart sings rondelay. 

And "Love me, love me, sweet," I fondly pray. 



43 



LINES TO A NUN 

What storm of piercing wind that blindly beat 
Tempestously on thy frail barque of life 

Caused thee to shelter seek in cloister cell? 
Thine eyes so grey gaze sadly into mine; — 

Ah, read not there, fair saint, my barque adrift 
Floats refugeless forever down life's stream! 



44 



"THOU'LT NOT FORGET" 

There are some sounds so sweet 

(Ah, maiden fair!) 
That mind and heart attuned 

To strains so rare, 
So rapturous, ever greet 

As discords harsh all other sounds. 
Some days there were so bright 

(Thou'lt not forget!) 
That dark years are illumed, 

While shineth yet 
The radiance of a light 

That glows while blackest shade surrounds. 



45 



WHEN YOU'RE AWAY 

When you're away I think of all the morrows 
That empty pass without your presence dear — 

The long, long day — untold its joy or sorrows 
For like a blurred glass 

Shine dim the hours that pass 
When you're away. 

When you're away — night still sad vigil keeping — 

"God hold you in His care when far or near!" 

I softly pray. 

Feel you my heart up-leaping 
At thought of one day passed 

That brings you back at last — 
When you're away. 



46 



SONNET 

{On a fern leaf from VirgiVs summer house at Gae- 
ta, on the Italian coast.) 

This fern-leaf green I plucked, dear friend, for thee. 

Here where the bees hum drowsily, and blue 

The summer sky as Virgil saw its hue ; 

And yonder still are kine upon the lea 

That graze in mild content. Dear heart, canst be 

Two thousand years are almost fled since grew 

The parent-root of this I send to you? 

Gaeta fair, did Virgil by the sea 

Behold (as I, my love) one face alone? 

Pensive always, and sad, he seemed, 'tis said — 

Alas! mayhaps he too heard oceans moan 

Twixt him and happiness! 'Twas here he read 

In accents low of Dido's bitter groan 

That echoed is today though years are fled. 



47 



BLUE-BELLS ON THE ROCKS 

Miracle of beauty gleaming — 
Sky and lake and woodland teeming 
All with beauties stern or tender — 
Yours the rarest, sweetest splendour: 

Soft the sky, and blue its doming — 
Little clouds like pigeons homing 
Floating, sailing in the azure — 
Tiny flocks of snowy pleasure: 

Than the skies above blue glowing 
Deeper tints the blue-bell's showing: 
From the rock's cold bosom flinging 
See the slender flowrets springing! 

Shines the lake in mid-day colour — 
Starry blue-bells make it duller; 
And the laughing spray up-reaches 
Toward the rock where beauty teaches 

From the tiny blue-bells swaying, 
More than some folk at their praying — 
Blooming — swaying — of God telling — 
E'en the sternest rock's His dwelling. 



48 



YOU 

I banished ev'ry thought of you — 
Your name not e'en my sad heart sighed — 
Would God that all the years lived through 
Were done — and I had long since died! 

You came — I need but touch your hand — 
But hear the old familiar name, 
And love resumed its old command — 
For you — ah, you vrere just the same! 

My fancied joy is hidden pain — 
My freedom but a mocking lie — 
And all the strength of years is vain 
For you are you until I die! 



49 



MEMORY 

A Song Cycle 
I 

Grey skies and leafless trees — 
The drip of falling rain — 
A sodden path — a lonely hut — 
And — memories. 

II 

Bird-notes are hush'd; 

No more the wood and hill 

Bath'd in the summer light 

Of ecstasy; 

No more the sun-kiss'd waves 

Gleam crested white 

To break on summer sands 

With hurrying rush 

As if some sea-god strong 

In haste pursued. 

Now dead the summer days 

And dead all joys save memory ! 

Ill 

O memory! our joy art thou and pain. 
Thou with thy anguish'd touch doth ope to us 
Those portals once so fair of life and love — 
Life's treasure house where riches rare are stor'd 
Nor vanish at the touch of Time's remorseless hand. 



50 



IV 

Life thou art fair 

Thou art young 'thou art free ! 

Take me, O life 

Bind my sad heart to thee; 

Back roll the days, 

O fair days of desire. 

When together we roamed 

Touched by love's magic fire. 

Life, thou wert fair 

Thou wert young, thou wert free, 

In the garden of life 

Now blooms pale Memory. 



A stretch of burning sand, with here and there 
The drooping branches of some towering tree 
That stands grim sentinel 'twixt land and sea; 
The naked pier juts sharp into the waves 
And high the sea-gulls white with piercing cry 
Up-dart into the azure sky serene, 
Then sink far out to float on amber wave. 
And shrill and clear the children's voices ring 
In happy play a-building castles fair 
Upon the shifting sands. 



51 



VI 

Life thou art fair — 
Thou art sweet as the day. 
Come to me — haste to me — 
Make no delay. 
Life thou art fair 
Ere the grey skies appear, 
Ere the rains break and beat 
On a heart desolate. 

VII 

What mocks the garish light of summer day? 
Still white the sands outstretch to meet the waves; 

Still float the sound of careless, happy mirth, 

But twixt thy heart and mine. 

My best belov'd, 

A shadow deep obscures the light of day. 

Now through the leaves, faint stirring, of the trees 

A sigh that breaks my heart alone is heard; 

And o'er the wide expanse of empty wave 

No vision fair 

Arises from the gloom of solitude. 



52 



VIII 

What mocks the garish light but solitude? 
Where once my love and I had happ'ly roved 
Now stretches bleak and cold the empty sand, 

And pale the light that rests on sea and wave, 
And cold the silences of solitude. 

IX 

Could I in crowded streets 

Or ways remote 

Again in happy comradeship but walk 

With one I love 

Then cold the wind might blow — 

The rains in fury beat — 

But I content 

Could feel one presence near 

No longer desolate. 



*Set to Music by Mr. E. R. Kroeyer, 

By permission. Copyrighted 1906 by the Wa^Wa 
Press. Copyright assigned 1912 to G. Schirmer. 



53 



A NORSEMAN'S SONG 
{To C. A.) 

Hearest thou the wind of the north 

Resistless compelling? 
A storm-god rushes it forth 

Triumphantly swelling 
Loud pasans of victory's might — 

Terrific soul-quelling — 
Tumultously speeding its flight. 

Bearest thou, O wind in thy flight 

So joyously fleeting, 
A message to her who this night 

Love's vigil is keeping; 
Compel her to hear in each blast 

Subduing, entreating, 
My name as her conqueror cast. 

Say to her: "Heart of my own 

So shyly confiding, 
My love as resistless has grown, 

Forever abiding. 
Tell her, O wind In thy flight: — 

"Whatever betiding 
I claim thee, and send thee my plight!" 

Speedest thou, O wind on thy way 

O'erpowering, commanding; 
Tell her 'tis vain to delay 

My passion withstanding. 
Tell her, O wind In thy might, 

Surrender demanding: — 
"Love claims thee, and sends thee his plight!" 



54 



TO-DAY 

For me the air is sweet 
As draught of purest wine; 
No cloud is in the sky; 
The lark that soars on high 
With rapid pinions fleet 
In ecstacy sublime 
Sings to my happy heart: — 
"To-day, to-day is thine, — 
This day all days apart 
Rapture divine!" 

Sing happy lark to-day! 
We roam, my love and I 
Across the meadows fair, 
Nor fear to-morrow's care 
While sings the lark so gay 
Far in yon summer sky — 
Sings to my happy heart: — 
"To-day, to-day is thine, — 
This day all days apart 
Rapture divine!" 



55 



THE CRY 

Lord Jesu — God of them that weep and mourn, — 
See'st Thou, in this vast city full Thy child? 
Black belches forth thick clouds of stifling smoke 
From fact'ry chimneys tall. 

Yet not so black 
As that thick cloud of doubt that whelmeth me. 
I seem so small — so insignificant 
In Thy vast scheme of things. 

Like sprawling ants 
Seem armies of the poor — ^The children pale 
Who look with hollow eyes into mine own. 
Carest Thou, O God, for these and such as me? 
Sometimes a voice — Thy Voice perchance may be — 
Seems low to comfort me. Sometimes Thy Hand 
I seem to grasp — My Brother Thou! 
But soon toil seems to drown my soul in pain. 
I cry to Thee: "Leave me not comfortless 
Forsake me not!" 



56 



A QUIET WORLD 

A quiet world about me, — 
No sound of bitter strife; 
What mocks the empty silence — 
What haunts the empty life? 
A sound of bitter weeping — 
A voice of sharp despair 
That fills the empty silence, 
And blots the day so fair. 

A quiet world about me, — 
Green leaves the trees now bear; 
Why sway their boughs fantastic — 
Why sigh the breezes there? 
A sound of bitter weeping — 
A voice of sharp despair 
Still mocks the empty silence, 
Still haunts the day so fair. 

A quiet world about me, — 
A world of outward peace. 
But storms still haunt the silence 
And rage without surcease; 
A sound of bitter weeping, 
A voice of sharp despair 
Still fills the dreary silence, — 
Still mocks the day so fair. 



57 



AFTER THE RAIN 

The leaves so green on tree-tops swaying; 

The waving fields of golden grain; 
The rippling lake In sunshine playing; 

Ecstatic notes, the birds refrain, 
Lift from the weary heart 

Life's burden and death's smart 
After the rain, 

After the rain. 

O heart bereaved by care and sorrow! 

O life weighed down by toll and pain ! 
Look up! faint not! In God's tomorrow 

Thy tears that fall like summer rain 
Shall shine as jewels bright 

Reflecting God's own light 
After the rain. 

After the rain. 



58 



ONE GLANCE 

Chiding my foolish heart to-day I said: 

"Men were deceivers ever! 

Guard well the citadel vvdthin my breast — 

Its chains let not Love sever!" 

But, ah ! one glance alone did Love bestow^ 

Despite my best endeavor, 

My foolish heart itself undid the chains 

To let Love in forever. 



Set to music by Rose M. Eversole. 



59 



'TIS LOVE TAPS AT THE WINDOW" 

*Tis Love taps at the window; — 

"Open to me!" he cries; 

"My wings droop — I am weary; — 

"Scorn not Love's anxious sighs; 

'Tis Love pleads at thy window 

"To rest his weary heart 

"This simple boon Love asks for — 

"Ah! bid him not depart!" 

When Love flits from the window 
He leaves the maid his heart; 
But rest, for which Love sueth, 
Sweet rest and peace depart. 
When Love taps at thy window 
Ah, maiden, say him nay. 
Lest through the opened casement 
Love steal thy heart away. 



60 



THE VOICE OF SPRING 

Out of the night and out of the storm 

Came a voice so tender and sweet; 

The dawn was breaking in roseate light 

And fair shone the cliffs with a radiance bright 

As the sun-kissed stones gleamed in dazzling white, 

And blue overhead was the sky serene 

Save floating a cloud like a bird was seen, 

And the Voice was the voice of the spring, I ween — 

Singing in accents so low and sweet: 

"The storm and the cold and the night are sped, 

And the spring — it is come! Rejoice!" it said. 

Out of the night and out of the storm 

Came a Hope so tender and sweet; 

My heart its langour no longer kept, 

But woke with the spring, and to gladness leapt; 

No longer it cold in my bosom slept ; 

For blue overhead are the skies serene; 

Each bird on his breast shows a brighter gleam, 

And the Voice of the spring sings of Hope, I ween — 

Singing in accents so low and sweet: — 

"The storm and the cold and the night are sped — 

And the spring — it is come! Rejoice!" it said. 



6i 



PROTESTATION 

Know you, O dearest one, the haunting fear, — 
The poison in the sweetest cup that love holds near? 

Know you the cloud that dims the brightest day.^ 
'Tis this "All things must change! Can love then 
last alway?" 

Came one when in your heart love's sun had set — 
And coming said: "O dearest one, you must for- 
get!" 

There is no draught in Lethe's deadening spring 
That should I madly quaff forgetfulness could 
bring! 



b2 



RAIN IN SUMMER 

A gust of whirling rain — 

A bird's sharp cry — 
A fiery blade of light 

From riven sky; 
Proud cedars standing tall 

Bend low and cower 
As beats the sudden rain 

In summer shower. 



63 



SILENCE 

Love, you have put me far outside your life, 
And I am like a soul lost — cold and dead; 
No more I look nor care if over-head. 
The skies be dull or bright. An inward strife 
Torments me, and my surging brain is rife 
With old remembrances of perfume shed 
In show'rs of April sw^eetness — quickly sped, 
Till now chill Autumn cuts with icy knife. 

I often think, O love, could you but spare 
One little word — a thought — it would take wing 
And bid my fainting soul its burden bear; 
Instead my sick heart cries: "Death hath no sting 
Like silence!" and the empty hours now glare 
With dull, set gaze such as to dead eyes cling. 



64 



A SEASON'S CYCLE OF SONG 

(To Miriam) 



Dost hear the robin's call 
So sharp, imperative, 
Startling the morning air? 
Hast seen the vivid hue 
Of blue-birds on the wing? 
They know the spring is here; 

Calling, choosing a mate. 
Winter's dark days are o'er. 
Up to the fleecy clouds 
In happy flight they soar. 

Dost hear, O little maid, 
Love's call, imperative. 
Startling thy spring-tim.e fair? 
Dost see the lightning flash 
Of eyes that gaze in thine 
To tell thee "Love is here!" 

Calling, singing to thee; 
"Winter's dark days are o'er. 
Come, love, come thou to me 
And leave me never more!" 



6s 



I 

Summer, summer, haste not! 

'Tis only now is life's full tide, 

'Tis now the bud hath opened wide, 

And roses red in regal sway 

As summer Queens all gaily play. 

They bow and bend, and lightly dance — 

On ev'ry stem a lover's lance. 

II 

Summer, summer, haste not! 

Filled sweet the air with bird notes clear, 

And life is joy and love is near: 

Steeped all the soul in radiant bliss 

While rapture lies in lover's kiss — 

A fair face droops in yonder bower 

And softly bends like fragile flower. 

Ill 

Summer, summer, haste not! 
The tangled grass-blades softly hold 
Love's lagging footsteps, and enfold 
With tender touch her dress's hem 
Who, like a rose on slender stem. 
Sways sweet her lover's kiss to seek 
While blooms a rose on either cheek. 

IV 

Summer, summer, haste not! * 
A garden sweet this world to-day. 
Bid blithsome hours to longer stay. 
'Tis golden noon in happy hearts — 
Still Love's at play with merry darts, 
And lightly bows and gaily bends 
. In love's fair field where youth attends. 
Summer, summer, haste not! 
66 



AUTUMN. 

Fair fields abloom with golden rod 

And asters' purple hue 

Smile soft beneath a cloud-flecked sky 

As blue as love's eyes true. 

Green sedges on the river's bank 

A-tremble soft repeat 

The song the sedge-bird sweetly sings 

Of love and life complete. 

Soon float o'er golden sun's broad disk 

Close banks of ashen clouds; 

A sudden chill is in the air — 

Pale mist the earth enshrouds: 

Saint Michael's daisies bloom like stars 

Along the grassy way — 

May holy angels guard the soul 

Of one for whom I pray! 

Far in yon leafless tree-top black 

A lone bird now is heard — 

Piercing and shrill the plaintive note 

By which my heart is stirred. 

Pale mist like death's cold, chilling hand 

Upon my sad heart falls — 

Where're thou art, beloved one, 

On thee my sad heart calls. 



67 



I 

Cold, glist'nlng lies the snow in broad-expanse — 

A white still world about me ev'rywhere; 

In icy sheath the sedges song is stilled 

And in my lonely heart breathes cold despair. 

II 

Still glist'ning, too, the stars seem cold to shine 
So far above earth's empty solitude: 
Cold — like a phantom shade — move restlessly 
Bare boughs where love-birds once so softly wooed. 

Ill 

Springtime with love's shy call is far away; 
The summer's golden noon as quickly fled; 
Above the stars — among God's saints — one waits 
And calles me sadly — calls me from the dead: — 

IV 

"Come, love," the soft, sweet voice is calling still, 
"Come, thou, my best belov'd, my earthly mate, 
Soon, like a dreamless sleep, time's seasons pass, 
Come, love, come thou to me — I sadly wait." 



68 



"YOU SING TO THE WORLD OF A SUM- 
MER-TIME" 

{To J. B. M.) 

You sing to the world of a summer-time, 

And the world — be it cold or drear — 
Listens and smiles and forgets its fear 

Of the biting wind, and the black night near — 
Of the winter ot snow and sleet: 

Again are the skies of a cloudless blue — 
Again blooms the rose in its regal hue, 

And life — it is summer, and hearts they are true — 
And this is the blessed Christmas-tide 

When you sing of the summer time. 



69 



"I KNOW A GARDEN FAIR!" 

I know a garden fair, — 

There all the summer day 
White butterflies so gay 

Float through the ambient air; 
There all the lilies rare 

Whisper my secret sweet — 
Tell me I soon shall meet 

My own, my lady fair. 

Rustle the silver leaves 

Upon the poplar trees; 
Sighing so low to me: — 

"Thy lady, waiting, grieves!" 
Now o'er the garden fair 

Softly the night-winds blow; 
Fire-flies flit to and fro 

Their tiny lamps to bear. 

Love needs no fire-flies light, 

Nor whisp'ring leaf to guide, 
But roams the world so wide 

Led by hope's star so bright. 
Sweet are the lilies rare; 

Fair are the silver leaves — 
Dearer to me than these 

My own, my lady fair! 



70 



BALLAD 

I have no rose to bring you — 
No wealth nor jewel rare; 

I have no song to sing you — 
Nor home to bid you share: 

I only love you dearly — 

Love you and claim you mine. 

Your glance meets mine sincerely— 
My love you must divine. 

I have no song to sing you 
Yet love my heart attunes; 

No wealth nor rose to bring you — 
Yet sweet the hope that blooms; 

"I love you — love you dearly — 
Love you and claim you mine." 

This song my heart sings clearly 
And love makes life divine. 



71 



A PEACEFUL HEART 

With pitiless intensity all day 

Hot blasts of stiflifig air sweep through the streets 

Where dwell the city's poor. 

Each day repeats 
For them the life of toil — a dreary way 
Uncheered by sight of trees and flowers gay; 
E'en heaven's blue's obscured by smoke that leaps 
In tortuous clouds from myriad furnace heats. 
Yet as in snow-fields blooms the scarlet spray, 
So here in humble room, when night descends, 
Blooms in a bruised heart, whose sorrows cease. 
Forgiveness of past wrongs — a flower that lends 
Pure sweetness to the soul, and joys increases. 
As self its sense of bitter wrong surrends, 
And strife within the heart gives way to peace. 



72 



HIDDEN SPRINGS 

To My Mother 

Clouds floating o'er a summer sky 

Reflected on the quiet waters lie; 

The birds dart from the azure bright 

To dip into the silver stream 

That tranquil winds through flower-decked mead- 

ow^s green; 
From yonder snow-capped mountain height 
The waters flow- 
To streams below. 

O thou, who with thy pure, calm face, 
Amid our troubled lives so weak, so base. 
Thy quiet ways of peace pursue, 
Teach us to seek the hidden spring 
That with its cooling waters bring 
As from the heights to souls so true 
Peace and content 
From heaven sent. 



73 



"WHEN SUMMER SKIES ARE BLUE" 

Think you 'tis hard to laugh when sad the heart? 
You're wrong. Do lovers laugh? We know they 

sigh 
In anguish deep. ''Light hearted youth's" a phrase. 
In youth are task, injustice, ignorance. 
A child knows not what cause he has to laugh ; 
Not knowing carking care, he know not ease, 
But longs for man's estate, and freedom (?) sweet. 
We who have known despair can gaily laugh. 
What has the world to give — or to withhold? 
It sells — it does not give. Wilt break your heart 
For some withholden toy as doth a child ? 
What use when summer skies once more are blue 
To waste one hour with thoughts of winter's blast ? 



74 



LOVE'S GIFTS 

You ask of Love a rose, a song, a smile. 

Upon dark tresses soft a rose a-bloom 

Doth tempt you fair to pluck it for your own, 

Nor, craven, fear to press its petals red 

With kisses sw^eet, — for this the rose doth bloom, 

Sweet, bloom for this. 

You ask of Love a smile, a rose, a song. 

Within dark eyes so soft a smile lies hid 

That tempts you oft to win it for your own 

Nor, craven, fear to gaze into those eyes 

With rapture sweet, — for this Love's smile is born, 

Born, sweet, for this. 

You ask of Love a song, a rose, a smile. 

Within the heart so deep a song is heard 

That tells of Love's great mysteries divine ; 

The smile, the rose but tokens tender be 

Of that great song. Speak, heart, unto my heart 

In song divine. 



75 



LOVE'S NECKLACE 

THE BEDOUIN SONG 

The Bedouin sighs to his mistress; — 

"Like pearls my teardrops fall. — 
I make thee a necklace to bind thee — 

Ah, love, past days re-call! 
Then hasten, O light of the morning! 

The south wind caresses me, 
While sweet to thy heart appealing 

Love fondly addresses thee!" 

The Bedouin sighs to his mistress; — 

"For thy sweet face so fair 
A captive lies pensive and grieving 

Imprisoned in Love's snare. 
Thy face like the light of the morning 

Comes to me to haunt me at night; 
No dawn has the night ot longing 

That brings not my soul's delight." 

The Bedouin sighs to his mistress; — 

"Within mine eye-lids lie 
Love's beauties, and sleeping or waiting 

My thoughts to thee must fly. 
My heart be it quiet or throbbing 

Beats only for thee alway, — 
Like fire is my love consuming — 
Beloved, turn night to day." 



76 



SUNSET 

Sunset — and pink and gold 
The evening sky outspread. 
The daj^ is drawing to its close — 
O day, so quickly sped! 

Tender the tint of rose 

In opalescence brief. 

The spring is pulsing everywhere 

In budding spray and leaf. 

Sunset — forevermore 

Within my heart held dear. 

This hour — the evening's benison — 

Recalls one presence near. 

O days, where'er he be! 

O skies, that o'er him bend! 

The sunset hour will bring him near- 

Grod's peace his way attend! 



77 



THE DREAM 

ARABIAN SERENADE AND ARIA 

Prelude : — 

O Perie-zadeh, through lattice window 
I bid thee waking — thy couch forsaking — 
List now my dreaming — the mystic seeming — 
While night on golden wing 
Flies swiftly by: 

A dream that thrilled me — with rapture filled me, 
And may the zephyrs soft 
Waft sweet replies. 

Aria — The Dream: 

On desert plain the white tents silent lay. 
He — my companion — slept, and I alone 
Through lifted canvas gazed at star-lit skies. 
Afar the desert stretched — the gleaming sands 
Seemed in the moon-lit night a silver sea 
That lifted — rose and fell — to meet the sky 
Like tide of molten metal rioting. 
One star — O Perie-zadeh fair — my gaze 
enthralled. 



78 



And while I gazed a dagger bright 
Descended swift from out the star through space — 
Down, down in rapid flight . 
The while I moved not yet seemed not to lie 
Out on the open plain. 
My tent I saw 
As 'twere my body with my soul away, — . . . 
Down, down the dagger fell and pierced my heart. 
I saw the sand beneath me crini?on-?tained, 
And waking knew thy glance (though in my dream 
A dagger thrust) transfixed m.y bleeding heart. 

Postlude : 

O Perie-zadeh, at latticed window 
Wilt bid the zephyrs soft 
Waft healing balm? 

Then desert dreaming is blissful seeming 
If night be crowned with love 
And heav'nly balm. 



7y 



A MERRY LITTLE SONG 

A merry little song — 

And one word all it sings: 
"Love" and the whole day long 

The lilting measure rings; 
"Love" and the little song 

Laughing and rippling on 
Flows like a brooklet clear 

To reach her heart so dear, 
And bid her love and lose herself in me 

As tiny brooklet lost is in the sea. 



So 



MAN'S EASTER 

From out the grave of Self 

To nobler life. 

God's truth from hidden shame- 

His peace from strife: 

The stone from harden'd heart 

Rolled far away — 

His fellowship with Christ 

Man's Easter Day. 



8i 



SONNET TO KEATS 

{"Sweet Hope! ethereal balm upon me shed. 
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head.*' 

—Keats.) 

Ah, Keats, the master-poet of thy time! 

No need to sigh o'er thy unhappy lot. 
In thee burned fast the fires of some far clime 

Whose balm ethereal bore thee to that spot 
Where silver-pinioned Hope despaireth not, 

But led thee quickly to thy destined prime 
Ere yet hadst known the dreary heat and grime 

Of earthly toil and stain and darksome blot. 

Faint voices echoed from celestial spheres 
And secrets whispered of the gods to ears 

Attun'd like thine to hear. Each whisp'ring wind 
The strain repeats: and mystic accents roll 

Thy heav'nly diapason to the soul: — 

"Lo! beauty is — and those who seek her find." 



82 



SONG OF THE WIND 

I am the wind. 

I rush in mighty blast 
From sea to shore. I come from snow-capped hills- 
From mountain tops, — and hot the desert sands 
Have felt my breath. 

No power can stay my course 
Nor curb my fury wild. 

Though soft I lull 
Some dreaming fancy sweet to fatal rest 
Soon like a giant strong I dash in glee 
Such mocking hopes to death . . . 

I beat and dash the sullen, empty waves 
To rise as solid walls of riven iron 
That falling crush like empty, fragile shell 
The giant ship. ... 

I am the wind, O man, be thou like me — 
Triumphant in thy spirit — boundless — free! 



83 



SONG OF THE WATERS 

Waters rushing — in ripples breaking- 

What forsaking 

Whirl your mirrored waves 

In madness by? 

Dead driftwood's paving 

The beach you're laving, 

And mocks your plaintive song 

Yon sea gull's cry. 

Waters rushing — 

In vain concealing 

But revealing 

Whirl your mirrored waves 

In madness by. 

One song you're singing — 

One image bringing, 

And mocks your ceaseless song 

My heart's low cry. 

Waters rushing — in ripples breaking — 

Man forsaking 

Whirl your empty waves 

Nor heed his cry. 

Still gayly ringing 

Your song is singing 

When man and all his hopes 

Forgotten lie. 



84 



SONG OF THE COLD 

Cold, are you King? — or I? You mock Death's 

Power. 
A slave — you bid me cower In Winter's grasp. 
The blood within my veins your icy touch 
Congeals; and soon your slave — deep, drowsy 

Sleep — 
Will hold my senses in his icy clutch. 
Cold you would bid me die. With stiffened eyes 
I search the cruel skies — then stagger on 
To meet Night's specter Dawn. 

Cold, I am not your slave. — ^Your power I brave. 
Again the hot blood courses through my veins 
For Dawn advancing heralds forth the Day: 
The cold Night waxing, wanes before his might, , 
And I am saved. 



85 



SONG OF THE FIRE 

See the fire in flames fantastic leaping — 
Demon-like — devouring — scorching — whirling 
Helpless tons of stone — of hammered metals — - 
Sweeping in its fury all before him! 
Curling — licking — seething — circling — winding! 

Oh! the fire enthralls me, and I worship 
Blindly! See it leaping straight toward heaven! 
Hear the crackling swirl of flames ascending! 
Hear the hiss of steam — derisive — sizzling! 

In the forest 'tis a monster dreaded; 
Pine and birch and mighty cedars tremble 
As with wanton torch the fire-god wanders — 
Touching crackling boughs to light his pathway. 

When the blackened Dawn remorseless wakens 
Stript and pale the whitened embers shiver. 



86 



SONG OF THE SUNLIGHT 

Sunlight dancing on the grass 
Lightly glancing bids care pass; 
Winds caressing woo spring flow's — 
Life's a blessing — bright the hours; 
Tree-tops swaying — skies all blue; 
Leaves a-playing dance with you. 

Sunlight, hasten! quickly go 
To a casement that I know; 
Bid her rise whom I adore; 
In her eyes bloom, ever more 
Love ?.nd gladness — life divine — 
Hasten, sunlight, she is mine! 

Sunlight, listen! tell her soon 
All a-glisten, beams high noon; 
Fields of clover tempt the bee — 
Love's a rover — land or sea — . 
All is lightness — ^Why delay 
Lest the brightness pass away? 

Sunlight dancing on the grass 
Lightly glancing see her pass; 
Quickly coming here to me — 
Heart a-humming laughs with glee. 
Sunlight waving to and fro — 
Pathway paving as we go. 



87 



SONG OF THE RAIN 

I count the leaden drops of falling rain 
That beat upon the roof above my head — 

Rain, will you never stop 

Beating on heart and brain — 

Singing the old refrain — 

Weeping for one long dead! 

A winding-sheet to wrap me seems the mist- 
I feel death's heavy pall in rain's dull fall — 

Rain, will you never stop 

Beating on heart and brain — 

Singing the old refrain — 

Weeping for one long dead! 

A spectre pale is lurking at my door; 
It beckons me, O rain, — again — again! 

Rain, will you never stop 

Beating on heart and brain — 

Singing the old refrain — 

Weeping for one long dead! 



88 



SONG OF THE TWILIGHT 

(To C.J.) 

And is this all, O life, 

When day is done — 
After the toil and strife — 

So little won — 
To feel Death's shadow fall — 

A leaden pall — 
Our tasks but half begun: 

To fall asleep 
When twilight shadows creep. 

And life is done? 



89 



A CHRISTMAS SILHOUETTE 

Upstretch bare boughs to reach black-bending 

skies — 
Who knows what hope in frozen branches lies? 

Like hands with fingers gaunt lift topmost stem — 
A prayer in silhouette seems moving them. 

Cold, still and silent seems the winter night — 
No breath save icy kiss In hoarfrost light. 

Numbs down the black'nd trunks a shiv'ring sigh 
To stir the gnarled roots that dormant lie? 

Nature in fortress grim her season waits — - 
Her trees are sentinels outside the gates. 



90 



TO A RUSSIAN DANCER 

Like thistle-down — 
So light — so swift advancing — 

A nymph — a sprite, 
Alluring — swaying — dancing ; 

A spark of fire — 
A snow flake softly gliding; 

A breath — a dream — 
A child in merry hiding; 

In sheath-like blade 
Of passion madly whirling; 

A flow'r — a shade — 
A tiny brooklet purling. 

To fairy land 
You lead — sweet strains inspiring — 

Dance then — dance on 
With winged feet untiring. 



91 



A SUMMER STORY 

A little Miss — so pretty — 
Was walking down the lane; 
Some playful clouds beholding 
For fun let fall their rain. 
Oh, patter, patter raindrops! 
What shame to scare her so! 
She trembling looks about her 
And knows not where to go. 

The hedge-rows nodding sweetly 
Sigh: — "Come, and hide with me!" 
Alas! their thorns prick sharply 
And from them she must flee. 
The cowslip and the daisy, 
And flow'rs I will not name 
Lift smiling faces frankly — 
The cloud-kiss Is no shame. 

The little Miss — so pretty — 
Lifts tearful eyes of blue; 
She sees no shelter, — sobbing, 
She knows not what to do. 
Still patter, patter rain drops 
Beat on her pretty head — 
Just than a farmer coming 
Accosts her — this he said : — 



92 



"O little Miss why standing 
Out here in driving rain? 
To see you so is shocking — 
It really gives me pain. 
Then come, — my home is waiting- 
My mother, too, will cheer; 
And soon the naughty rain drops 
Will leave the sky all clear." 

The little Miss so pretty, 
With tiny, trembling smile 
Took shelter in his farm house — 
It was not quite a mile — 
And w^hile the rain drops falling 
Sang; "Patter, patter on!" 
His heart to her's a-singing 
Sang — quite another song. 



93 



THE WORLD AND SORROW 

I to my soul long grieving cried aloud: 

"The world is fair to-day — blue are her skies; 

Sings she a merry rondelay, nor sighs 

Mid shadows deep that memories sad enshroud — 

(Pale phantom shadows thronging pallid-browed) 

Her blightsome voice re-echoes glad replies; 

Nor moans, nor breaks o'er whispered word that 

dies 
In anguished sob — O world, so gay, so proud !" 
Yet soon the world, grief mocking, cries: "Begone! 
Take thy sad visage — sorrow-scarred — away! 
Thou and thy shadow, grief, must walk forlorn, 
Nor seek when at our feast mid jest and play 
To cloud the hours!" Then, soul, so shadow-worn, 
I begged sweet Grief, close-clasp'd, to with me stay. 



BLUSH REDDER, REDDEST ROSE 

Ah! rose, red rose so sweet 

Thy petals glow 

As fiercely blow 
The hot tempestous zephyrs that thy love entreat; 

Wooing to thee 

Through summer night 

A bride to be. 

Blush redder, reddest rose 
Thy heart disclose — 
Thy beating, trembling heart 
Where passion glows. 

Ah! sweet, my roses red 

Now softly rest 

Upon thy breast; 
Their petals plead my passion in their fragrance 
shed: 

Wooing to thee 

My rose, my sweet. 

My bride to be. 

Blush redder, reddest rose 
Thy heart disclose — 
Thy beating, trembling heart 
Where passion glows. 



95 



A BRUISED HEARl* 

It Is gone. Let it grieve thee not 

(O friend, as I lie dying) 
From my heart it is all forgot 

(O my friend, cease sighing) 
'Twas thy heart that thou smote that day 

(O friend, as I lie dying) 
From thy heart cast the thought away 

(O my friend, cease sighing) 

It is gone. As thy hand I clasp 

(O friend, as I lie dying) 
Is forgot all the bitter past 

(O my friend, cease sighing) 
All the sweet that my life contained 

(O friend, as I lie dying) 
To me came when thy love I gained 

(O my friend, cease sighing) 



96 



THE WORLD AND DEATH 

O world, SO' cruel, so hard. 

Why worship we at thy shrine? 

Across the snow, 

Long years ago, 
Death clasped his hand in mine: — 
Death whispered so low, so sweet: — 
"Beloved, come thou with me, 

Come, sleep, nor weep, 

Lone watch to keep 
With none to comfort thee!" 

world, so cruel, so hard. 

Thy promises proved a cheat. 
Across the snow, 
Long years ago 
Thou stayed my hast'ning feet 
It whispered : — "Thou'lt soon forget — 
(Beloved, I longed for thee!) 
But, oh, the world 
In anger hurled 
Its glamour over me: 

It whispered: — "Thoult soon forget — 
Thy anguish is but today: 
Across the snow 
Thou must not go — 
The world would have thee stay; 
The world will comfort thee soon — " 
(Beloved, thou callest me!) 
Yet o'er the snow. 
Long years ago 

1 fled from Death and thee. 



97 



THE COTTON WOOD TREES 

Trees with your rough black bark 

And sturdy trunk 
Straight towering toward June skies, 

From 'neath green glossy leaf 
In softness sunk 

Like feathers warm down flies. 

Winds with caressing touch 

Waft here and there — 
Soon tangled grass-blades hold 

Soft meshes quickly laid, 
And everywhere 

Glows white the sunlit wold. 

Soon fill the wheelrut tracks 

And fences nook 
Till winter's mock'ry's whole; 

The sun shines thro' soft flakes 
And gliding brook 

White crested waves now roll. 

'Gainst lifted face floats warm, 

The feathery flakes 
To brush past memories by — 

To be with one would I 
This warmth forsake 

Tho' cold soft snowflakes fly. 

One touch of winter's blast! 

This warm spring air 
Would cheat my senses drear. 

Ah, 'tis a mocking snow 
That falls so fair 

To cheat each blade and spear. 

98 



*NEATH THE STARS 

Tell the stars to quit their blinking, — 
Not at me shall they be winking, 
Just because I stole — what w^as it? 
They've no cause to go and buzz it. 
Just because the red bird sang it — 
In the tree-top out he rang it — 
Sure I pleaded long and earned it — 
Quick as stolen I returned it. 

Tell the stars not softer lighter 
Than the thistle-dow^n, but brighter 
Are the silken curling tresses 
That my cheeck so soft caressses. 
Just one kiss! The stars are counting 
One and two and three — they're mounting, 
But I'm honest — sure you've learned it — 
Quick as stolen I returned it. 



99 



THE POET'S THOUGHT 

Wouldst learn the poet's thought? 

Do you not know 
Each whispering wind doth to his mind serene 
Her secrets first impart? 

He hears I ween, 
Where early violets hide; and where doth blow 
The firstlings of the spring. 

The birds I trow, 
Hail him a friend from every tree-top green, 
And guide him to yon downy nest, where sheen 
Of silver-gray or mottled blue gleams low 
'Gainst mother-breast. 

The flower-laden air 
Doth bring to him the vision fleeting bright 
Of some far land — so far away, so fair, 
Where he no more will meet the sting, the slight 
Of petty scorn from souls who mock and tear 
From fancy's fairy wings the plumage white. 



IN SHELTERED NOOK 

Blue are the skies; 

Spring flowers fair 

With sweetness rare 
Bid love arise, 
And to that glade 

He knows so fair 

Quickly repair 
To seek its shade. 

Blue are the skies; 

A sheltered nook 

Beside the brook 
Hears Love's replies 
When bending boughs 

In sheltered nook 

No prying look 
Nor glances allows. 

Blue are the skies. 

Moments so sweet 

With rapid feet 
Love's springtime flies 
Nor rippling brook 

Nor flowers rare 

Are found so fair 
As in that nook. 



WITHIN THE MANOR GARDEN 
To Jessie 

INTRODUCTION 

''Love, my beloved one, shall last, 

Shall last till death be past," 

Thus sings the nightingale, and lifts each heart 

Responsive to the strain up to the realms 

Of love, and parting — yet of life beyond 

The portals of this lesser, sadder world 

Through golden gates of song to heav'n's shore. 

Still sings the nightingale, and wouldst thou hear, 

friend, vv^ho vt^ith me v^anders through these 

paths, 
The romance that in years now long gone by 
Made of this garden — then all glowing fair — 
A spot to me so sacred, yet so sad, 

1 fain with thee, O friend, beloved one. 
Would share its memories, while 'round us falls 
The evening's pensive shade, and soon the moon 
With soft effulgent ray will light the night. 

'Tis then the nightingale pours forth his song — 
The same empassioned pleading to his mate 
That smote upon those list'ning in this glade 
So many years ago. Dost know his song; — 

"Love, my beloved one, shall last, 
Shall last 'till death be past." 
See in the lily's cup 
The dew-drop sweet! 
List passion's pleading voice 



Thy heart entreat. 

Faint zephyrs soft complain — 

Like fairy lute, 

And all the world around, 

Though thou art mute, 

Sings; ^Tove, my beloved one, shall last — 

Shall last 'till death be past!" 



Behold before our eyes the scene outspread; — 
A glade soft — sloping to a river's bank; 
Across the turgid stream huge trees and tall 
Stand sentinel to guard the fair demense; 
The sun, low-setting gilds with roseate light 
The evening clouds that seem from earth to rise 
Like banks of soft grey mist enveloping 
The far horizon's rim, while faintly rings — 
From convent tower near the vesper bells:— 

Pealing, so softly stealing 
Earth's cares away; 

*TIft up your burdened hearts, 
Bid earthly woes depart, 

Another world revealing — 
For this my bells are pealing — 

To bid thee pray." 
Pealing, so softly stealing 

Earth's cares away; 

"I bid thee pray! 

I bid thee pray!" 

Outlined across the blue of western sky 
White pigeons swiftly journeying In flight 
Seek now at close of day their woodland nest. 
All nature speaks, while round us shadows fall 
Within this sylvan solitude so still, 
So calm, so sweet, of brooding, peaceful rest. 
103 



And yonder on the heights to crown this glade 
Stands now as then the stately manor house 
With turrets towering high mid battlements, 
While nestling safe 'neath its protective care 
The convent with its slender, heav'n-turned spires 
Sleeps in the quiet shade of linden trees. 

See, friend, beloved one, how calm, how still! 
What safe retreat would seem those quiet halls 
Where slender, pensive forms move silently 
From cloister cell to worship at their shrine — 
For from the convent walls once entered in 
No more the outside world is visited. 

The manor garden with its wealth of bloom 

Extends unto those walls, and clam'ring up 

The rugged, moss-grown stones gleams green 

Beneath blue skies the glossy, waxen leaf 

And tendrils fine of fragrant moonflowers white, 

As if to e'en approach these sacred walls 

Fair flowers alone could bloom near heaven's shrine. 

Stirs on its slender stem 

The fragrant moonflower white 

A queenly diadem 

To deck the brow of night. 

Is felt no faintest breeze 
To lift the lang'rous air 
Yet through the glossy leaves 
Shy buds are trembling there. 

E'en tiny insect wings 
Are stilled, and incense deep, 
The night prevading, clings 
And all the senses steep. 
104 



And now the sun hath set, and pale the moon 

Gleams slenderly above the tree-tops high; 

O'er copse and woodland, glade and garden green 

The first entrancing strain of nightingale 

So piercing sweet stirs e'en the trembling buds 

Of moonflowers white to open to the night. 

And like a breath from paradise there sweeps 
O'er all the blossoms trembling, swaying sweet 
That bloom within the moonlit garden fair 
The plaintive, searching melody of love: 

"Love, my beloved one, shall last 

Shall last till death be past." 

Wouldst hear, O friend, beloved one, of her 
The fairest flow^er sweet that graced in days 
Gone by the manor house — a queenly rose 
Her maidens fair — a garden sweet — among? 

List then, beloved one, for fain I would 
Thy heart to my heart hold in tend'rest love, 
And 'tis the penalty of truest love 
To dread a future holding love long past. 
And thus to lovers true comes sweet the song 
Yon birdling sings of love beyond the gates. 



Still green today the manor garden glows, 
But hush'd the girlish voices gay and sweet 
That sang love's rondelay. In those past years 
The garden glowed as now with golden blooms, 
And flaunted to the sun gay blossoms bright, 
And with the night came sensuous moonflower's 

white 
To tell of passion pale, and lover's sighs. 



105 



'Twas then the nightingale in frenzied notes 
Poured forth his song of longing to his mate, 
And woke responsive echoes to his cry 
In hearts attuned to the night and love. 

See, my beloved one, the manor stands 
Approached through avenue of lordly trees 
With branches interv^^oven high in air, 
And through the sun-flecked leaves a-trembling high 
Soft light, subdued at mid-day e'en, is thrown. 

Down through this avenue of stately elms 

Past gay parterre of ever-blooming flowers 

A path of greenest turf winds in and out 

To lead at length by devious ways device 

Unto the river flowing to the sea. 

Upon this river, highway to the sea, 

Sailed forth in war's array the manor's lord 

To fight in battle for his liege, the king. 

And with him sailed a goodly company 

Of brave and gallant men. When back they came 

Victorious from foreign land's fair fields 

No guerdon greater could a conqueror gain 

Than won the manor's lord in winning her 

The fairest maid as bride, his wife to be: 

Who from her father's home in sunny France 

Surrounded by a chosen band of men 

And maids, as victor's prize returned 

With him — her conqueror. Not rudely seized 

As hostage fair in war's stern might, but giv'n 

In wise compliance — a ready yielding 

To the wish expressed by him, who, seeing once 

This fairest damozel, surrendered her 

His heart, and claimed the priceless gift — herself. 



io6 



A duteous daughter, scarce but child In years 
To him the manor's lord is she betrothed, 
And gaily ring o'er sunny vineyards fair 
The wedding bells, then mid gay songs and jests 
Sail joyously, with silken banners spread, 
The strangers welcomed by the gallant men 
And brave to bear them merry company 
To this fair English home beyond the sea. 

Soon flit through ancient hall and garden gay 
A happy throng — like winged butterflies 
A-basking in the light of sumjmer time; 
While lilt sweet careless voices carrolling; 

"Who'd be a-sighing 

While skim o'erhead 

Gay swallows flying 

Circling, vying 
In golden summer-time to reach the sun? 

Soft zephyrs playing, 

Whisp'ring, swaying 
Through trembling tree-tops high sweet rapture 
shed. 

Who'd be a-sighing 
In summer's prime 
With roses blowing, 
Nodding, showing 
Mid blushing petals red each trembling heart? 
O'er fields of clover flits the rover 
Bird, bee or butterfly 
To reach love's clime. 



107 



Who'd be a-sighing? 
Bid care depart; 
Birdlfngs are winging 
Calling, singing; 
"Love's day go not away till life is done." 
All fears denying, 
Sweet, replying 
Wilt thou with rapture fill 
My pleading heart?" 



Perhaps 'twas part the perfume of the flowers — 
The moon-lit glade, the greater freedom gained 
By honors new^ — perhaps youth yields to youth, 
And, having gained his fairest bride, her lord 
On studious work long hours in silence spent; 
And in those hours 'twas sweet, 'twas natural 
To wander through these flower-decked groves 
With gay companions — friends of former days; 
Or when some hours of homesick sadness came 
How sweet to dwell in mem'ry's halls again 
With one to whom each step familiar was, 
To see again the vine-clad hills, and hear 
One's own familiar language spoken soft; 
To tell of little, well-remembered things, 
So commonplace when passing, yet so sweet 
When time has made them things forever gone. 

Among the throng of youths and maidens fair 
Attendant on the bride from her own home 
Was one brave knight — a distant kinsman young,- 
Who, like a brother fond, in childhood days 
Had shared her simple tasks and merry play. 
When both had older grown, his care it was 
To tame her crested falcon for the chase, 
And confident was he in all her joys. 

io8 



Yes, sweet it seemed, and natural to roam 
With him these forest paths; and closer grew 
In sympathies so keen both hearts so young. 
There came at length a few sad days when he 
Reluctant, joined perforce a cavalcade 
To meet with honors due some foreign guests 
Who came to pay unto the English lord 
Their courtesies. These days of absence served 
As some relentless pow'r, resistless, great — 
In silence, yet with touch that trembled not 
To lift from sealed eyes the blindness past 
That hid th' effulgent light of mighty love. 

Seems now the madrigal of joy to turn 
To sadder theme and all the day to sigh: 

"Love, do you list'ning hear but words of cheer 

That bid you go? 
Not hear the stifled sigh — not know the fear 

Lest tears may flow? 
Yet in my breast scarce seems to beat my heart 

With all its woe; 
And veiled my eyes to hide their burning 
smart — 
Love, must you go? 

Love, do you know how long the days must 
seem 

With you away? 
How filled with sadness all the bird-songs 
teem — 

How garish day? 
Yet I can bid you go — my words are said — 
, Not bid you stay — 
Though all the summer days are empty — dead 

When you're away!" 

109 



That night of his return — the kinsman young — 
As was his wont of late, met her, the bride. 
Here where we stand, beloved one, O friend! 
While near them lilting voices carrolling 
Sang merrily the madrigal of love: 
Within each heart a pregnant silence lay 
Till woke the sleeping chords of ecstacy 
Outpoured unto the night; 

"Love my beloved one, shall last. 

Shall last till death be past." 

Were words a-mingled with the nightingales 
Soft, searching melody of deathless love? 
Listening together once again the night, 
The glowing flowers sweet, their own young hearts 
Spake in the language that leaves naught unsaid. 



That night a troubled dream disturbed her rest; 
She wandered lone through some dark wood, 
And always in the distance sadly called 
One voice upon her name. She woke to hear 
The muffled tread of heavy feet below 
In manor hall. Frightened, her maid came in 
To tell her hurriedly that at the dawn 
The stranger guests escorted by their hosts 
Had gaily hied them swiftly to the chase. 
And he, her kinsman, bore them company: 
Alas ! he wounded was — an accident — 
"God! was his voice in darkened wood then heard?" 
"No, not his voice," they sadly, softly cry, 
"For he was dead — dead when they found him 
first!" 

Beloved one, my friend, a withering blight 
Seemed then to fall upon this garden green 
And once so fair. Soon silence met the song 
IIO 



Of nightingale, and, desolate, a cry- 
Rang out to tell of gath'ring storm's stern might. 
Fled to the convent, there to expiate 
By weary vigils long and penance scourge 
The guilt of straying thoughts from her liege lord 
Wept one, once fairest maid all maids among, 
While he, the manor's lord grown stern and grim 
Hastened again in service for his King 
To lose the life now valueless since lone. 

At night while vesper bells so softly rang, 
("Pealing, so softly stealing 
Earth's cares away.") 
And when the sun, low-setting gilt the stream 
Before her shrine a penitent in prayer 
Sought peace, for heavenly peace to soothe her pain. 
Then oft a bird's soft note assailed her soul 
To lead her wand'ring thoughts thro' banished years, 
And weeping she in accents contrite cried: 

I 

"The convent walls are high, so high, 

The world's afar 

While as a star 
Yon wax-light dim points to the sky 

Safe I should be 

On bended knee 
While vesper hymns sounds tenderly. 



II 

The convent walls are high so high, 

The trees so green 

Entice I ween 
Yon singing bird my soul to try; 

To lead astray 

At close of day 
My erring soul e'en as I pray. 

Ill 

The convent walls are high, so high, 

To shut away 

From eyes that stray 
The world's temptations ever nigh 

But, ah! for me 

Better to me 
Deaf to the song-bird's minstrelsy. 

IV 

The convent walls are high, so high 

Yet the first strain 

Of birds' refrain 
Recalls again the years gone by, 

Alas, for me 

A glade I see 
Where lovers wander merrily. 



112 



The convent walls are high, so high 

Why should the note 

Of bird remote 
Undo the work of years gone by: 

Penance and scourge 

My soul to purge 
Since o'er me moaned the funeral dirge? 

VI 

The convent walls are high, so high 

Soon, soon for me 

The past will be 
A thing forgot — when dead I lie — 

From sin made free 

Then shall I be 
Deaf to the song-bird's minstrelsy." 



Come, my beloved one, my more than friend, 
Wilt bid the nightingale in gentlest strain 
Tell me thy heart to mine by music sweet 
Is linked in fetters golden by his song? 
Then o'er this garden like Elysian fields, 
Softly shall waft the music of the spheres. 



113 



MY PLACE 

I in my little place in the world — 
You roving free; 
But who can measure thoughts in their flight ?- 
Like weapons hurl'd 

Their pow'r no man can see, 

I in my little place in the home — 
You lonely far; 
But who can curb my pray'r in the night? 
Where — e're you roam 

My faith your guiding star. 

I in my little place in your heart — 
You travel-worn; 
But who can guage the strength of a love 
From self apart 

That trusts you night and morn? 

I in my little place in the shade^ — 
You in the light: 
But God can hear my sigh whispered low, 
And, unafraid. 

You lead to vict'ry's might. 

I in the secret place of my soul 
Know love is true. 
My thoughts — my pray'rs — my hopes follow on 
What e'er your goal — 

My place — the heart of you. 



114 



YOUR EYES 

There are eyes of tender blue, 

Have a care! Beware! 
Lest your heart from me they woo 
As they sweetly smile at you — 
Heart of mine, to me be true! 

There are eyes so soft and brown. 

Have a care! Beware! 
Let the smile become a frovm, 
And a shower of tears come down — 
Angry tears in eyes of brown! 

There are eyes of dove-like grey. 

Have a care! Beware! 
Lest your heart they lead astray — 
Making love mere holiday, 
And your heart a plaything gay! 

There are eyes — ^your eyes so true — 

Long ago you know — 
Be they brown, or grey, or blue, 
Won your eyes my heart to you — 
Heart of mine, to me he true! 



115 



"IF THIS BE PARTING" 

If this must be the day we two shall part 
First tell me, love, what distant land to seek 
Where to my heart bereft no sound shall speak 

To me of you — if this be parting. 

If when I upward gaze unto the stars 

And see the golden moon — just as of yore 
Tell me, O love, forgot forevermore 

Must be past days — for this is parting! 

No more shall music sweet enthrall my soul 
For Oh, dear love, what thronging mem'ries 

wake! 
Its language is your own, — and ever spake 

To me of you — Must this be parting ? 

If this must be the day we two shall part 
Teach me to still my heart, — my weary brain, 
For ev'ry heart-beat — ev'ry throbbing vein 

But speaks of you — and this is parting! 



ii6 



THE LAST GLANCE 

Into my eyes a glance said: — 

"Heart, surrender!" 

Yet still I yielded not, but bravely smiled 

With all the strength a vanquished cause can lend 

her — 
A woman's art to e'en herself beguile. 

Into my soul a loneliness forever — 

Eyes that once looked in mine 

Now closed and sealed — 

Poor bravery! — a woman's last endeavor 

To hold the citadel 

When Love cries: — "Yield!" 



117 



THE SECRET 

Who told the secret? who knew it to tell? 

Only the trees and the flow'rs of the dell. 

A sly squirrel, whisked 'cross the flow'r-bedecked 

glade — 
You saw him — and I — but were never afraid. 
A pair of brown wrens were loud quarr'ling on 

high— 
They could not have heard what we said — you and 

I. 
The cool little brook lapped the stones at our feet — 
For shame ! to mistrust that the brook would repeat ! 
A butterfly poised on a wild rose a minute- 
As soon I'd suspect a fair saint at her spinnet! 
The bees were so busily dusting the clover 
They surely would never be "talking us over." 
O sweetheart, I wonder if two roses glowing — 
Two eyes shy with love could our secret be showing? 
But what do we care if all the world's wond'ring? 
Yet "who told the secret?" I cannot help pond- 

'ring! 



ii8 



TIGER LILIES 

To M. R. V. 

Midsummer bright! and tall the lilies blow — 
Soft velvet-petaled leaves in golden glow. 

Back from its crown each spotted petal curls 
Be-set on slender stem with dusky pearls. 
Expectant stand the tiger lilies tall, 
While silver birch leaves near so softly fall. 

Birdling and bee and butterfly flit by 

O'er greenest garden turf 'neath summer sky. 

Dim through the night pale stars mid cloudland 

sweep, 
And dim the lilies tall sad vigil keep. 
Fair breaks dawn's light, — still wait the lilies tall; 
Expectant, too, sounds faint the lark's sweet call. 

Where is she gone whose touch of loving hand 
Made of this garden green a charmed land ? 

Lights flick'ring low through casement open'd wide 
All night a-tremble shone her bed beside. 
Pale, cold and still now sleeps a silent form, 
Nor wakes should tempests roar in deaf'ning storm. 

Midsummer bright ! Sad voices murmur low, 
But still the lilies bloom in golden glow. 



119 



LOVE'S CAPTIVE 

Persian Love Song 

Love's captive cries to his jailer stern; — 

"Good Master, a boon I crave: — 

Bid sleep, I pray thee, soft sleep sojourn 

In mine eyes that w^eep 'till thy return 

From the chase, the mart, from the court, the ball ; 

Where e're thou stayest 

My heart it prayest 

That sleep, soft sleep 

To mine eyes would steal. 

And dreams thy lov'd face reveal; 

So if thou ling'rest at chase or ball, 

At the court, the mart or stately hall 

I dreaming would see thee. 

Would love thee still, — 

Nor couldst thou ever leave me 

For waking or dreaming 

With rapturous seeming 

Thy image my dreams shall fill." 



By permission of The John Church Co, 



120 



WHEN LOVE IS YOUNG 

{Madrigal) : 

Oh! come, come, 

Why shouldst thou 
When love is young. 

And jocund May 
To sportive play 

Invites thee, — 
Why shouldst thou. 

To spite me. 
When love is young 

Cry: "Nay, nay, today 
Thou dost affright me!" 

Oh! come, come. 

Why shouldst thou 
When love is young, 

And 'tis the day 
For sport and play. 

Thus doubt me? 
Why shouldst thou 

So flout me 
When love is young, 

And; "Come, come to-day!" 
Sounds all about thee? 



Oh! come, come, 

Why shouldst thou 
When love is young 

Wait 'till the day 
Is passed away 

To meet me? 
Why shouldst thou 

Not greet me — 
When love is young — 

With: "I'm thine to-day!" 
Nor longer cheat me? 



INDIAN SUMMER 

There comes a day, before we've more than thought 
Of summer dead, when the mind waits to see 
A changed aspect o'er the landscape near; 
Tall trees stand black against the cloud-swept skies, 
Their branches holding here and there some leaves 
Of varied hue. 

The tired mind of man 
Throws of its weight to see again more sky 
Than greets his eye erstwhile in summer heat. 
The dusty streets stretch white along the way; 
Dark green the grass appears when viewed afar; 
The shifting winds sweep here and there brown 

leaves. 
While flocks of little birds alight, arise — 
Scarce to be known from leaf, so brown, so swift 
In sudden flight. 

A yellow, smoky haze 
Enwraps familiar scenes in vistas new. 
The air is fragrant with the frost-touched leaves 
That burn in heaps along the clean-swept way. 
The vine upon the gray stone wall glows bright 
With crimson sprays that cheat us to believe 
The summer's gayest flowers once more abloom — 
As sometimes springs the flower of love anew 
In hearts where burned the fierce flame of youth — 
Long past! Yet from the ashes of the heart 
May rise and glow once more the fire of love. 



123 



THE BASHFUL LOVER 

So like her glowing cheek 

The wild-rose fair — 
The words my lips would speak 

Unspoken tremble there; 

And like blue lily-bells 

Her drooping eyes — 
What secret in them dwells 

My heart would fain surprise. 

Like ripened grain her hair 

In sunshine seen, 
Yet scarce I'd trembling dare 

To touch its silken sheen; 

And like her red, red lips 

The perfect rose 
From which the sweet bee sips 

The nectar rich that glows. 

Now wild-rose blush I see 

Turn crimson flame, 
For shall a honey-bee 

A bashful lover shame? 



124 



LOVE'S NIGHT 

Sweet, once the days 

Held all such dear delight 
We could not grasp them quite— 

Those precious days, — 

But, prodigal, 

We wasted moments bright 
As if those golden days 

Must last for aye, — 

As if the day 

Could know no coming night — 
Ah, night! Love's night! 

Sweet, in love's night 

Death seals a closed door, 
And bids us never more 

Taste love's delight. 

A shadow pale 

From those fair days of yore 
Would flood my soul all bright 

With ecstasy; 

But past love's day. 

And black the lonely night — 
Ah, night! Love's night! 



125 



I'HAJNKiSGIVING 

I thank Thee — God — 
For simple, little things 
That make life glad: — 
The smoke of burning leaves — 
The first faint tracery 
Of frosted panes — 
The rush of whirring feet 
Through crackling twigs — 
A spray of sumac red — 
A sharp'ning air — 
All tell that summer's dead, — 
But winter's King — 
I thank Thee— God! 

I thank Thee — God — 

Who made me part of life! 
The sparrow small He named. 
Men most obscure 

He likened to Himself — 
The humblest sought. 
Great deeds are like the sun, 
And all men praise; 

But little things are sweet — ■ 
Like violets. 
I thank Thee — God — 

Who little things hath made, 
And none forgot! 



126 



THE STAY AT HOME 

I see snow-covered peaks of cloud-land mountains 
high 
Touched by the rising sun. 
What matter to my heart so well content if I 

Perchance have traveled none? 
'Tis His — the Hand that makes the clouds — the 
peaks — the sun — 
And e'en the mind behind the eye that scans the 
sky 
And sees what God hath done. 

The little stream that winds through meadows calm 
and still 
Can bear me dreaming down 
To oceans wide: I see the angry waves; — the thrill 

Of tempests surge and drown: 
And frovin the ink-black clouds like night: the rain 
pours dowoi. 
I wake from day-dream just to see the old frame 
mill 
Stand in familiar brown. 

I hurry — oft so travel-stained and almost spent — • 

Along earth's highways old; — 
Brussels and Antwerp — foggy London — Paris — 
Ghent — 
Their tales so often told 
Seem no way new. — But best I dream my hands en- 
fold 
My eager friend's — to welcome me with wonder- 
ment — 
The foreign traveler bold ! 



127 



What if I waking see stand prim and tall 

Red hollyhocks a-blow? 
And breathe the perfume of clove-pinks: and hear 
the call 
Of cat bird — sweet and low? 
The hands to welcome me may be the palsied ones 
Of our poor neighbour Jane who lifts my gate- 
latch small. — 
I thank God it is so! 



128 



A VALENTINE 

Yes, the snows are all about, 

And a nipping, frosty air 
That would chill a tender sprout 

If to show its head *twould dare: 
Yet the robin and the wren 

And the humblest growing thing — • 
They are ready once again 

To believe it is the Spring 

It is mating time — 

And growing time — 

And loving time, my dear, 
And this Valentine 

I'm sending you 

To make my meaning clear: 
See the Cupids on the cover, 

And the bow with bleeding darts — > 
It is sent you by a lover, 

And his heart with longing smarts. 

Sec, the gentle rains will fall — 

And the breezes whispering low 
Woo the tiny vi'lets small — 

Coax the daffodils to grow: 
And the river breaks away 

That the ice has held so long — 
Flowing, murm'ring, rippling gay 

In the springtime's happy song: 



129 



Yes, tis mating time — 

And growing time — 

And loving time, you see — 
And this Valentine 

Would bid you now 

Entrust your heart to me: 
All the flowers bloom and glisten — 

All the bird-songs carol sweet — 
Hear my song, and as you listen 

Bid your heart its song repeat. 



130 



UNDER THE LILACS 

I see the lilacs purple sheen 

In swaying branches high; — 
The graveled path — the new grass, green, — 

The soft-flecked, springtime sky: 

I see the bank amid the trees 

That slopes to brooklet small; 
And now as then, like rain the breeze 

In trembling poplars tall; 

But most to pierce my heart — now lone — 

I hear a bird's song ring. 
O spirit love, in realms unknown 

Do you, too, hear it sing? 



131 



"WHY, O LITTLE FLOWRET?" 

Why, O little flow' ret. 

With your rain-washed face 
Can you smile so brightly 

As the spring show'rs race? 
Down the black clouds pouring 

Drench the meadows green 
As if Heav'n were weeping — 

Still your smile serene! 

By the brooklet standing 

Wait I all in vain, — 
She the tryst forsaking 

As fast falls the rain: 
Still the mill wheel turning 

Laughs its happy song, — 
Flow'r and brook are mocking 

At my waiting long. 

Know you, little flow* ret, 

With your petals blue. 
There are eyes I know of 

With a brighter hue? 
Know you, noisy brooklet. 

Though your voice is strong 
There's a voice far sweeter — 

In my heart its song. 



132 



See, the clouds are clearing !- 

Is it brook or bird 
That my lone heart hearing 

All my being stirred? 
Flow'ret, little flow' ret, 

Lift your smiling face — 
On her breast soon lying 

You will find a place! 



133 



TWO VISIONS 

One woman sees the world spread out 

Before her listless gaze, 
And in her heart — like desert drought — 

No spring of joy can raise. 

Another sees on prairies bleak 
From cloudland's valleys high 

God's mountains rising peak on peak 
Against the sunset sky. 

One hears her own sad heart complain 

In symphony divine ; 
And one forgets life's stress and strain 

In simplest song or line. 

And so God gives His gifts — we take. — 
His not the blame — but ours 

If we the light of joy forsake 
To fret behind life's bars. 



134 



GOD'S PROMISES 

Sometimes the heart cries out: 

"Be near me, God, I pray! 
I am bereft — and lost — 

Show me, O God, the way !" 
Sometimes I sorely need 

To rest my heart on Thee — 
Sometimes I seem to hear 

His voice to comfort me; 

Sometimes I hear Him say: 

" 'Knock' and 'twill open be!" 
" 'Seek' and you'll surely find!" 

" 'Ask' what you will of Me!" 
Sometimes I wonder why 

On life's hard, lonely way 
His promises we doubt — 

Teach me, O God, to pray! 

Sometimes I almost seem 

To touch my Brother's hand — 
Only a moment's grasp — 

All day I stronger stand j 
Sometimes in darkened room 

A Light I faintly see — 
His light that lifts the gloom — 

Lead me, O God to Thee! 



135 



"LOVELY WEATHER" 

It is always "lovely weather" 

In a country that I know. 
I have seen two walk together — 

Wintry winds might chill and blow — 
But the roses — cold can't cheat her — 

Bloomed upon her face so fair, 
And his heart-blood leapt to meet her 

As they strolled together there. 

It was always "lovely weather" 

In their country, though the sun 
Beat or bake the grass or heather 

If together they were one. 
Do you know that land beguiling? 

Have you traveled in Love's clime 
Where the skies are bright and smiling- 

"Lovely weather" all the time? 



136 



FUTURITY 

That day, O love, your soul unseen takes flight 
How shall I, weeping, look upon your face? 
How shall I bear the home-like — once-loved place 

Where we have lived? — ^you hidden from my sight. 

That day, O love, how still must gleam your brow — 
(The eyes fast-closed that I have loved so well.) 
Shall you not see me where-so ere you dwell? — 

I seem to feel your pit'ing glance e'en now. 

Shall you not hear me? — sobs my bosom fret. — 
Not hear me though my heart so wildly cry ? 
(You who look up to question if I sigh) — 

Dear heart, no love like ours shall e'er forget. 



137 



LOVE'S SILENCE 

If you, when all our parted years are fled, 
But turn again your steps to seek my door- 
Then will I need no word to tell me more 

Than that you trust me — sweetest word unsaid. 

I will not ask what heart-breaks you have known 
Nor seek to know the buried, bitter woe, — 
It is enough that you can trust me so^ — 

And all the weary years at last are flown. 

It will be sweet to know that you are near — 
To see the dusky twilight fill the room- 
To think that only I can light the gloom, 

And in the silence feel that I am dear. . 



138 



"SINCE YOU ARE GONE" 

Why do you mock me, O you happy days, 
Now that I am alone? 

Around my heart 
You bind a chain as strong as riven iron : 
Out of the flow'rs that smiled once 'neath the sun 
You brew a spell to drive my tired brain mad. 

If you had whispered to me — loving then — 
(O you, the spirit of those golden days!) 
That I should be so wretched when alone 
Would I not than have fled your passing joys? 
I look now up into the mocking sky: 
And pass I silently the blooming flow'rs. 
No longer smile the ripples of the lake — 
All emptiness — ^just things of soul-less life 
Since you are gone. 



139 



"I WONDER" 

Little cloud, little cloud 

You sail so quickly by, — 
I wonder whither flying 

You haste in distant sky? 
Little cloud, little cloud 

A boat is on the sea, — 
I wonder if I ask you 

Would drop a word from me? 

Little cloud, little cloud 

No longer you I see, — 
I wonder if the breezes 

Would kinder be to me? 
Southern breeze, southern breeze 

You sigh of passion's fire, — 
I wonder can I trust you 

To breathe my heart's desire? 

Southern breeze, passing breeze 

You're whisp'ring to the rose, — 
Yon nightingale a-singing 

Aloft may bear my woes, — 
Nightingale, nightingale 

Your heart knows sorrow's pain — 
I wonder will you winging 

Repeat my heart's refrain? 



14a 



Little cloud, passing breeze 

And nightingale are done, — 
I wonder if thought speeding 

Can reach the distant one? 
Know you then, know you then 

You are not alone — 
From my heart, from my heart 

Winged thoughts have flown. 



141 



DE PROFUNDIS 

(To Mr. John McCormack) 

Deep from the sea a pearl — 
A lovely, lustrous thing; 

Once was it jagged, — rough — 
A shell imprisoning? 

Deep in my heart a song — 
What wells of anguish keen 

Gushed from my aching breast 
In tears unswept — unseen ! 

Go, pearl and song, your way. 

The pearl a crown may grace. 
Haply my little song 

May cheer some lonely place. 



142 



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